100 Days
by JessicaRae24
Summary: One hundred days, one hundred moments of time, one hundred memories… but who is really counting? No slash.
1. Introduction

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Okay. I'm giving the 100 Theme Challenge from _Psychfic_ a go to help butt kick my Psych muse, because she has wondered off the Psych path and needs a refresher course. The 100 Theme Challenge seemed like just the thing to help me out. It will help me get the next chapter of 'The Sight' out.

And let me say that I have not read any of the other 8 responses to this challenge to keep myself from subconsciously using similar ideas. SO, if you do see something in these 100 ficlets that is similar to another author's 100 theme stories, it is purely coincidence.

I hope you enjoy these. All parts of this will be written in the 1st person with the person being Shawn. ;) This is only my second time writing 1st person, so bare with me and please lend advice if you see errors in my 1st person presentation.

**DISCLAIMER:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from the work on this site. No copyright infringement is intended.

**--XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX--**

One hundred days, one hundred moments of time, one hundred memories... but who is really counting?

Well, I guess I am. It's kinda hard not to, actually. Counting things, remembering things, most of the time not even doing it consciously. It's just one of the many quirks of being me, I s'pose.

I don't even know why I'm making myself write this down. Okay, so maybe I do know why, but Lord knows I'm not one for writing or reading or anything particularly constructive that does not in some way in the end benefit me. I am, after all, a self-indulgent jerk.

That's what my last sorta girlfriend yelled at me as she slammed the door in my face, anyway. Not that I care what she thought. That was years ago, a distant wink in my past. I don't know why I even brought that up. I didn't care then and I don't care now. I mean, who cares what other people think of you? They already decide for themselves who or what you are after that first impression, and I give them all one hell of a first impression. Whether it is my charm, my sarcasm, or my flamboyant actions from my psychic episodes. One of those facades of my personality is sure to leave a mark on their psyche.

Now you're probably wondering about that little mention of 'psychic episodes'. Yeah, you see... I'm a psychic private detective, but those of you that are supposed to be reading this should already know that.

Its just, well... The thing is... I'm not _really_ psychic, but its what I tell everybody. It's not like they can prove otherwise, you know. How the whole psychic thing came to be is another story onto itself that I may or may not get into later. I guess it's gonna come down to just how much of my life I want to leave in print for others to see.

That brings me back to why I am even writing this stuff down. Like I said, I don't do the writing thing, but you see... I died today. For one whole minute I was dead. No breathing, no heartbeat, nothing; just a flat-line beep buzzing in a constant tone. Not that I remember it, but your best bud yelling it in your face with tears in his eyes tends to make you sit up and take notice. Granted I was being my charming, sarcastic self when I triggered the Guster temper, so I guess I deserved the sucker punch in the gut that Gus' words gave me.

"Damn it, Shawn!" Gus had suddenly screamed at me, his tone wiping the smirk off my face in an instant. "You died! For one whole minute you were DEAD! So just stop joking around for once in your life and take this seriously!"

Gus had looked like he was going to say more, but instead he had rushed from my hospital room with his words echoing around in my head. I had the feeling that he, nor anyone else, had planned on telling me about my little foray into the unknown.

Gone for one whole minute—DEAD for one whole minute.

Something like that tends to make you think over a few things; from what you've made of your life so far to what you'd be leaving behind. Whether or not you'd made a difference or if your being gone would even matter.

As far as what I've made of my life so far... Let's just say I would get an A+ for creativity, and a D- for productivity. Unless you only counted the last five years, the amount of time I've been going with the whole psychic detective thing. That has been both creative and productive. I continue to pull off my psychic ruse and catch the bad guys while doing it. That I feel particularly good about and proud of, despite the lie I have to continue to do it. I can live with the lie, but the thing is...

I can't die with that lie being left behind. I don't want my friends, the people I love, to be left with only a lie. I want them to know more about the real me. I want them to know the part of me that I'm just plain too scared to show them. They'll probably be pissed off at me to read this after I'm gone and find out all the things they didn't know that I never gave them the chance to see, but what can I say? I'm a gutless chicken. That is something I've shown them plenty of times, so be assured that not everything you knew of me was a lie. Please, just remember that.

Not everything was a lie. Some parts of me that I showed you were real. Please, please... remember that.

Remember that as I now share with you one hundred days of my life, share with you one hundred moments of my life that helped to shape the man I am today.

This is day number one. This is moment number one... This is the introduction to everything you didn't know about me.

This is the real Shawn Spencer.

**.  
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**Review?**


	2. Love

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**All right, here is the second one. Thank you all so much for your reviews!

**Love**

You know, it's kinda funny. What your mind remembers, that is. I mean, the mind is a complicated thing. All kinds of smart people have been trying to understand it for as long as there's been a curiosity. Which is kind of ironic in a way, since you are trying to figure out something by using the very thing you are trying to figure out.

Dude... Not even I really understood that last sentence.

Oh well. I'll run with it.

As I was saying before I interrupted myself, the mind is a funny thing. The following certainly isn't a time in my life I want to remember, but it is one that is impossible to forget---even if I didn't have my freaky memory.

But it's kinda hard to force it out of your memory bank when it was staring you in the face every time you saw your family. Or what was left of your family...

**--XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX--**

I was fifteen.

I was given a choice.

My mother or my father?

Now, what the hell kind of question is that?

As I sat at our kitchen table I did a slow blink and then stared at them, not entirely sure I was hearing them correctly.

"What?" I asked, knowing the cold feeling tightening my chest was only going to get worse at their explanation. My mother answered me, reaching across the table and placing her hand over my own. I hadn't realized I had gripped it into a fist.

"Shawn, we're getting a divorce," she began and I nodded my head. They had informed me of that little tidbit of information several weeks ago. I had been expecting it, actually. I was only surprised it had taken so long to become official, but this... This was something I hadn't thought about. Wait... that wasn't entirely true. I had thought about it. I just had this foolish hope that it was a question I wouldn't be asked. This was the one and only time I wanted my parents to make the decision for me.

My eyes fell to the table as my mother rubbed her thumb over the back of my hand. "Shawn, I'm moving out soon and the fact is you need to stay with one of us and..." She trailed off and glanced up at Dad, who sighed in frustration and shoved away from the counter he had been leaning against.

"In a nutshell, kid, we either figure this out now or we're going to end up fighting it out in court," he spoke, his voice harsh sounding. "So, before we go that far we decided we'd have you put your say in the matter."

I stared at him and narrowed my eyes. I could see his frustration and anger, nothing out of the ordinary there, but as my stare continued I started to see something else. I had to look away, my gaze returning to the table. If I hadn't known any better I could have sworn that I'd seen fear in my dad's eyes.

"Shawn," my mother said in a hard tone, causing me to look at her, but her eyes were glaring at Dad. "This is not all on you, we just wanted to hear what you thought before we made any kind of decision."

Oh, well. That's entirely different then. They'd make the decision in the end, but they wanted to know which of them I wanted to stay with more. Totally different. No pressure on me at all.

I wanted to laugh, and I did. Which caused my mom's eyes to snap back toward me and my dad to frown, his arms crossing over his chest. I shook my head and pulled my hands away from my mother's touch. I rested them in my lap and concentrated on removing the dirt from beneath my fingernails, blinking hard as my vision blurred.

How could they ask me to choose? They were already getting a divorce because of me, and now I had to make a choice between them? And, no matter my decision, I'd lose. I could feel myself beginning to fall apart, the urge to escape building in my chest. How could I choose? How? I didn't want to lose either one of them. I didn't want this to be happening!

And just as I was about to run from the table, my dad's voice suddenly filled my head, telling me to quit feeling and start thinking. I took a deep, shaky breath and stared at my fiddling hands as if they would tell me the answer.

A no win situation. I'd have to go with the choice that left me with the least amount of loss. God... How can I do this?

I lifted my eyes, first studying my mom. She gave me a sad half smile and was trying to look encouraging and comforting. I could tell she didn't want to force me to do this, but I could also see a confidence behind her eyes. She was sure I was going to choose her.

The truth was, she was right. When I had first heard the question, my mind had immediately answered "Mom". There was no question that the two of us got along better than Dad and I ever had. We hardly ever fought, and she didn't make everything I did in life into a lesson to be learned, but as living life and whatever that entailed.

Then again, we didn't know each other very well. She was a doctor and therefore, was hardly ever home. I knew how she liked things to be done around the house and that good manners were very important, especially among strangers. We shared the same sense of humor, which was to be expected since I don't think my dad even knew how to make a joke, but... I'd never really spent any considerable time with her. Not like I had with Dad.

My gaze shifted to my dad and I saw what I always saw. He was standing tall, arms still crossed and a stern look firmly locked on his face. I forced myself to see past that front and took in his stance, his weight almost unnoticeably shifting back and forth on his feet. He was worried, tense. My eyes traveled up to his eyes and I saw again what I thought I had imagined before. He was scared, and with that I also saw a dread. My mom was sure I would pick her, and on this rare occasion my father was agreeing with her. He didn't think I'd pick him, and they both would have been right...

If I hadn't taken the time to think it over...

"Okay," I said, breaking the silence of the room. I glanced between them and then forced my eyes to stay on my mother.

"I'll stay with Dad."

The shock that flashed in my mother's eyes cut me like a knife, piercing my heart. I had to bite my lip as I watched the tears build in her eyes, as I watched the pain cross her face. From the corner of my eye I could see my dad's surprise, even as he tried to hide it. The dropping of his arms and the step to the side he took told me enough.

My mother took in a shaky breath and I felt the burn of tears prick my eyes. I reached forward and grasped her hand.

"Mom..."

"I'm okay," she assured, blinking slowly as she held the tears at bay. I shook my head and didn't care when a tear broke free to slide down my face.

"Shawn," she toned softly, leaning forward and brushing the tear from my face. "It's okay."

And then she smiled, stood, and walked out of the room. I watched her leave and felt the knife in my heart twist painfully. I would never, ever forget that smile.

My gaze stayed on the door my mom had just walked out of as the silence in the kitchen turned the air heavy. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Shawn," Dad suddenly said, his voice gruff.

I didn't move my stare, only nodded in reply.

"I-"

He broke off. Silence, again.

When I felt his strong grip on my shoulder my gaze fell to the floor.

"You've got chores to get to before dinner."

I nodded, "Yeah."

"Get to 'em," he ordered, and I nodded again. His hand gave one more squeeze before I stood and left the kitchen.

As I walked past my parents' bedroom I paused and forced myself to listen to the sobs that managed to reach my ears. I had made the right choice. I know I had. Mom and I, we'd be okay. She could make it fine without me around all the time. She could handle it.

Dad, though... I don't think he could handle losing both of us. I know we'll fight, probably even more now that mom would be gone, but I'm afraid of what would happen to him if he lost both of us.

Mom could handle it. Dad couldn't. I took the route with the least amount of loss.

It was the right choice.

Mom's crying grew softer and I swallowed past the sob that wanted to break through. I forced myself to continue walking.

I had made the right choice.

**--XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX--**

So, that was the moment in my life where I really figured out what love was and what it felt like, when I finally really recognized it. You may think that love is something you should know, that it isn't something you need to be made aware of, it just is.

You're wrong.

Think about it. Most of us can remember that time where we were hit in the face with the pain of love. And that is how you first find it, with pain. The first time your heart is broken is when you discover what love is.

And more often than not your mind doesn't agree with your heart, and most of the time your mind is who wins the argument and makes the final decision.

Whether or not I regret my decision is a question I'll never answer.

I had made my choice.

**END NOTES:** Thoughts? glances around nervously I have several ideas as to how the separation of the Spencer family went, and this is one of them. I doubt it was how it went in the actual series, but I figure the time frame for Shawn between 15 years old, the divorce, until he was 18 and the event of the arrest by his father for stealing his truck, Shawn's building anger toward his father would make more sense if he was with Henry those three years after the divorce. shrugs That is with disregarding what Shawn said in the pilot about helping his mom through the divorce, since that doesn't make sence to what is said during 'From the Earth to Starbucks'. :)


End file.
